


Protect and Serve: Side Notes

by DeathBelle



Series: Protect and Serve [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of chapters related to the fic <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3765271/chapters/8363791"> Protect and Serve</a> that weren't part of the main storyline. </p><p>There are different POVs, backstories, and a variety of other things related to the original story:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Eren Jaeger has a secret, one that is tearing him apart. Alcohol is the only thing that is holding him together, and it is breaking him in an entirely different way. When he meets Levi, he feels that he has maybe found someone who can help piece him back together. The problem is that Eren is certain Levi will abandon him as soon as he learns the source of Eren's poisonous shame.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Jean Kirschtein has been a police officer for years. He's trained several recruits, but there is something different about Marco Bodt. He begins to have strange feelings toward his new partner, feelings that he is ruthlessly ashamed of. One night after a few too many drinks things get a little out of hand and Jean can't even look at Marco. He has no idea how he's supposed to continue working with him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am still surprised and very grateful for the positive response to my fic, [ Protect and Serve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3765271/chapters/8363791). If you haven't read it and feel that you would be interested, please go check it out! The stories here won't make much sense without having read it first. The first chapter is a glimpse into Levi's POV, as requested by CaptainLenaSenpai. Chronologically, it fits somewhere between chapters 17 and 19 of Protect and Serve.

At the time, Levi had felt that kissing Eren had been a good idea. Now, two days later, he wished he’d just left the fucking kid at laser tag.

The kiss wasn’t the problem. It had been a relatively innocent gesture, although Levi’s thoughts at the time couldn’t have been construed as innocent by any stretch of the imagination. And that was the problem. It was obvious that Eren was damaged. He’d known that from the first moment he’d seen the brat, and the damage definitely wasn’t restricted to the busted face that he’d had at the time. 

Some trauma ran bone-deep.

Levi knew that from personal experience.

And that was how he knew that he should leave the kid the fuck alone, despite Eren’s endearing persistence. It was obvious that Eren felt something for Levi. He wasn’t exactly subtle with his tongue-tied stutters and awkward blushes and lingering stares. It had been annoying at first, but then again, Eren in general had been annoying at first. Levi had wanted nothing to do with him. He’d only saved him from getting the absolute shit beaten out of him because Levi may have felt somewhat guilty for not stepping in. Eren was just a kid, after all.

And that was another problem entirely. Eren was twenty-two. Levi hadn’t been twenty-two for a very long time. If he went any further with the kid it was like taking advantage of him. Levi had suspected Eren wasn’t exactly experienced, but he’d had no idea until the other night that he’d never even been involved with another man. Levi wasn’t the best romantic exploit for someone like that. Levi wasn’t the best romantic exploit for anyone.

It would be best if he just cut it off now, before it could go any farther. Before Eren got crushed. Before it ruined both of them.

Levi tipped back the rest of his third beer and thunked the bottled back down on the counter. Even though he’d already had one drink more than he usually would have, he still waved down Petra and gestured for her to bring him another. 

There was only a slight sensation of soft cotton curling around the edges of his thoughts. It wasn’t enough to make him feel better. 

“Here you go!” said Petra, depositing the beer and collecting his empty bottle. Her smile faltered by a small degree and she paused before sweeping away to tend to the other patrons.

“You alright, Levi?” she said, leaning slightly on her side of the counter. 

“Yeah, fine.”

“You don’t look like it. You look bothered. And I know you didn’t have a hard day at work because it’s Sunday.”

He sighed, the breath swallowed by the sounds of the bar. “Just a lot on my mind. I’m fine, though. Really.”

Petra smiled again, but it was feigned. “You know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need to.”

“Of course I can, I tip you. That’s what bartenders are for.”

She rolled her eyes, mouth tilting up in a more genuine manner. “Yeah, hilarious.” She hesitated, words poised on the tip of her tongue, trying to form coherently. “Levi,” she said, speaking quietly, “I really am sorry about the other night. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“I know you said that, but I want you to know that I really am. You actually told me about all that stuff that happened and I don’t want you to think I took it lightly. So really, I’m sorry.” She reached out to touch the back of his hand, which was resting on top of the bar. 

For once he didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, tensing slightly until Petra withdrew. “Now go do your job, the guy with the mullet looks like he’s getting antsy.”

Petra glanced over her shoulder. “That’s a woman.”

“The statement still stands.”

“Alright then. Yell if you need anything.”

With that he was left alone again, accompanied only by thoughts that he would rather not dwell on. 

It kept coming back to Eren. It didn’t matter what other bullshit he had to deal with, everything always tied back to the stupid brat with the ridiculous eyes and the smile that Levi had only witnessed once. That one single smile, though, could have sailed a million fucking ships. 

He didn’t know when it had happened. Somewhere between wishing the kid would stop talking and go jump off a bridge and feeling that maybe the brat wasn’t so bad after all Levi had gotten lost. 

Now he had no fucking idea what to do.

No, he knew what he needed to do. He needed to stop giving the kid false hope. There was no way anything would ever work out between them. Both of them had too much shit to deal with. If they piled it all up together then they’d drown in it.

It would be easy. Levi had emotionally cut off ninety percent of the people in his life. Hanji had managed to stay close through sheer irritating persistence. Petra had wormed her way in afterward, and they’d brought the rest of the idiots that he begrudgingly called friends along with them. Eren was new, though. They’d only known each other for a short time. It shouldn’t be difficult at all to throw the kid away. It shouldn’t leave an emotional stab wound.

He wouldn’t regret it at all.

“Fuck,” he said, muttering into the mouth of the beer bottle before tilting it back.

Levi was full of shit, and he knew it. Everything sounded well and fine in his head, but as soon as the kid came swaggering in all bets would be off. The stupid brat had grown on him; sort of like a tumor. A tumor with oceanic eyes and subtle scars and problems that made Levi feel slightly better about his own issues.

Where was he expecting it to go, though? He couldn’t imagine it working out. It would end badly, it always ended badly.

…but what if it didn’t?

If he decided to stop things with Eren before they even started would he regret it a week from now? A month from now? Next year?

Even if it failed, at least he tried, right? 

Regretting a failure wasn’t nearly as bad as regretting the fact that he didn’t try at all.

Someone hopped onto the stool beside Levi and he flinched, having been too caught up in his own head to notice the approach. He started to snap at the intruder, but Eren’s bright eyes turned the harsh words to dust in Levi’s mouth. “It’s about time,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I was about to go home.”

“Sorry, I was helping my sister with something,” said Eren. He waved at Petra when she glanced in their direction and she beamed back. 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Eren turned on his stool to squarely face Levi, cocking his head to one side. “Are you okay?”

It was such a genuine, concerned question that Levi couldn’t bring himself to bite out a sarcastic response. After a moment Eren started to fidget beneath Levi’s stare, dropping his eyes and swiveling back toward the bar. “Nevermind, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Eren nodded, glancing shyly at Levi from the corner of his eye. “Okay.” 

Fuck. It was hopeless.

Levi had to do something. It was obvious that Eren would curl up and die before making any sort of move on his own. Even after Levi had openly flirted with him the kid had remained oblivious.

Something had to be done. 

And soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place before Protect and Serve, when Eren still worked at the PD with Jean. 
> 
> This is part one - the next chapter will be a continuation. 
> 
> I feel like I should warn you about gay bashing, because it's going to happen. 
> 
> Also, if you haven't read at least to chapter 11 of Protect and Serve, you shouldn't read this yet. Major spoilers.

When Eren told Jean about being gay, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Jean had shared hours of stories about his own life. He'd told Eren about all the uncomfortable one-night stands that he'd had, all the rookie mistakes he'd made on the job, and about all of the awkward family problems that he had to deal with any time he failed to completely avoid his relatives. Eren listened, appreciated the platonic intimacy, and felt that it was only right to share things about himself.

Apparently sexual orientation wasn't the ideal revelation.

He'd told Jean at the end of a long Sunday shift, just before they left the PD parking lot. Eren had tried to slip it subtly into the conversation, as if he wasn't offering up his most well-kept, ceaselessly guarded secret.

Subtlety wasn't really part of the equation.

Jean had stared at him, open-mouthed, for a solid ten seconds. Then he'd shifted his car into reverse and calmly backed out of this parking spot, leaving Eren standing in the adjacent space where he had been speaking to Jean through the window of the Charger.

Eren had been crushed at first. He spent the rest of that night and the entire following day stressing about the decision, cursing himself for opening his mouth. He picked up his phone about seventy-five times over the next two days, intent upon calling Jean until he had his thumb poised over the 'call' button. He backed out every time.

He told Mikasa and Amin about what had happened. Even if he hadn't mentioned anything, the two of them knew him so well that they would have pretty much guessed what his problem was anyway. Both of them offered him the same sage advice; he was overreacting. Jean had said nothing negative. To assume that he would react badly was bordering the creation of a self-fulfilling prophecy. If he expected Jean to have a negative response then it was more likely that he would.

And, to be fair, Eren did have a tendency to overreact.

They drilled this positivity and encouragement into Eren's skull until it finally stuck. When he reported back for his patrol shift on Wednesday, it was with a good attitude that was reinforced when Jean sat beside him during roll call without a word. He didn't directly look at Eren, but maybe he was just preoccupied.

Everything seemed normal on the way out to the cars. Reiner asked Eren about his days off, although it was with strange wording and a leer that confused Eren. He didn't realize anything was decidedly wrong until he went to the driver's side door of the Charger, arm extended toward the handle. Before he could open it, Jean slammed a palm into his chest, forcing him to take a step back. It was a heavy impact, but Eren barely felt it through his Kevlar vest.

"Dude, what the fuck?" said Eren, dusting off the front of his shirt and scowling at Jean, who had moved forward to yank open the door himself.

"I'm driving," Jean said flatly, still not quite looking at Eren.

"You drove last shift. It's my turn."

"This is my car, and you're not touching it. Everybody knows homos can't drive."

Jean dropped into the seat and pulled the door shut behind him. Eren just stood, mouth slightly open, trying to figure out if Jean was joking. He must have been.

Eren rounded the hood of the car and climbed into the passenger side, choosing not to make a big deal out of it. He and Jean were always teasing each other. It was how they communicated. This was the same thing, even if it did make Eren feel a little sick inside. He was just overreacting, like Armin and Mikasa said.

They cruised around in silence that was increasingly awkward, neither of them stepping up to breach a conversation. About forty-five minutes into the shift the radio crackled, Annie's voice bursting through the speaker. "Headquarters, 104." She waited for the dispatcher to acknowledge her before continuing. "Ten-eighty-one on twenty-eight four-two-six-uniform-juliet-sierra, displayed on a red Chevy Cobalt, occupied times four, final stop will be Patriot Street at Seventh."

"Ten-four."

Eren looked up at the street sign they were passing. They were already on Patriot, passing Second Street. Eren opened his mouth to say something about Annie's traffic stop, but remembered that he and Jean were, for whatever reason, not currently speaking. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to break the silence.

When they saw the flashing lights of Annie's car, Jean and Eren both reached for the radio speaker. Their hands touched midair and Jean violently recoiled as if he'd been scalded. Eren withdrew too, startled by his partner's reaction.

Jean wiped the back of his hand on the leg of his pants like it had been contaminated. Face still twisted with disgust, he braked to a stop behind Annie's Impala and seized the radio. "Headquarters, 103. Ten-eighty-two with 104."

"Ten-four, 103."

They exited the car simultaneously. Eren nudged the door shut gently, having to consciously prevent himself from slinging it. That was one of the most difficult things he'd had to learn when he'd first started the job. Apparently he had a habit of slamming car doors that he'd never noticed until Jean had chewed his ass several times about giving away their position.

Annie had already approached the Cobalt and was walking back to her cruiser, head turned to one side so she could watch the car’s occupants as she retreated. She circled to the back of her car and tossed four IDs onto the trunk. 

“You’re checking warrants on all of them?” said Jean, one eyebrow raised. “What, are they sketchy or something?”

“Nah, I wanted Jaeger to take a look at them,” said Annie, nudging the IDs toward Eren. “It’s a car full of guys. I thought at least one of them might be his type.”

Jean snorted before bursting into laughter, Annie smirking as she pulled open her car door and ducked inside to retrieve her laptop. Eren was too shocked to immediately say anything, mouth hanging open with unformed words. Finally, while Annie was still digging around in her floorboard, he managed a stammered, “Did… did you tell her what I said?”

“Yeah, I told her and Reiner,” said Jean, the amusement still clear on his features. “Dude, you’re blushing. Did I hurt your little feelings?”

Eren turned his face away, all too aware of the heat that boiled beneath his skin. He wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe he should try to defend himself, but he had no ammunition. Eren hadn’t planned for this. He hadn’t expected Jean to be so bitter.

“Alright, kids,” said Annie, slapping the laptop down on the trunk beside the identification. “Let’s see who’s going to jail tonight.”

She ran the ID numbers through the system, Jean looking over her shoulder. Eren stayed a fair distance away from the pair of them, choosing to watch the occupants of the Cobalt rather than expose himself to more unwanted attention. 

“Well damn,” Annie finally said, collecting the IDs into a neat stack in the palm of her hand. “No warrants. That’s weird.” She extended her arm toward Eren. “Here, Jaeger. Go give them back and tell the guy to slow his ass down. Maybe you’ll get his number while you’re at it.”

“Fuck off,” said Eren, folding his arms and keeping his eyes on the Cobalt.

“Hey,” said Jean, his voice sharp. He took the IDs from Annie and shoved them against Eren’s chest. “She said to send them packing.”

“And she’s not my boss,” said Eren, taking the IDs just to keep them from hitting the ground. “This is her stop, she can do it herself.”

“Well then _I’m_ telling you to do it,” said Jean, slapping the twin stripes sewn onto his sleeve. “And I am the boss of you.”

“No, you’re not. We’re partners.”

Jean’s lip curled. “You wish, Jaeger.”

Eren couldn’t pretend he didn’t recognize the context. He should’ve been angry, but all he felt was a pit of humiliation settling deep in his chest. He turned on his heel and paced to the car, doing as Annie and Jean had directed. He returned to the pair of cruisers as the Cobalt pulled away, the driver greatly relieved that he’d been spared a speeding ticket.

“Stop looking at me like that,” snapped Jean as Eren came to a grudging stop at the trunk of Annie’s car. “Not interested.”

“In what?”

“Don’t be a dick,” said Annie. For a moment Eren felt slightly relieved that she was taking his side. Then she added, “Jaeger can have a crush on whoever he wants. Although if it’s on you, Kirschtein, then he obviously has terrible taste in men.”

Eren felt like sinking beneath the pavement. He’d always thought that revealing that part of himself was a mistake. Then he’d allowed Armin and Mikasa to convince him that it wasn’t a problem, that there was nothing wrong with it. They were the ones who were wrong. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“Come on, Jaeger, what’s wrong?” said Jean as Eren stomped back to the cruiser. “Don’t be so dramatic!”

Eren got into the car and slammed the door, clenching his shaking fingers into fists. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep himself calm. He felt like crying, and knew that was the last thing he needed to do. Jean would never let him hear the end of it. 

Not that it could really get much worse.

That was the first night that Jean harassed Eren, but it was certainly not the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the last chapter. Again, this is your warning for gay bashing/slurs/etc.

Two nights later, after passing the first half of the shift in silence, a ten-eighty-six came in from Jean and Eren’s allotted zone. That was fairly typical; domestic situations were the most common calls. Eren thought nothing of it until they arrived and saw the two individuals involved. 

The argument had leaked onto the front porch of the residence. Jean pulled the car to a stop half a block away, out of the subjects’ line of sight. He still refused to let Eren drive, and Eren had decided it was best not to argue.

“Son of a bitch,” said Jean, cracking his window so that they could hear the shouts from the heated argument. “It’s fag city up in here.”

Eren clenched his jaw, choosing not to respond. The individuals arguing were both male. It was possible that they were friends or brothers, but both Eren and Jean had seen enough domestic disputes to recognize a couple when they saw one.

“This one’s all you, Jaeger.” Jean threw the Charger into park. “I’m not getting in the middle of their shit.”

“It’s a domestic,” said Eren, not moving. “It’s just like any other call. We should handle it together.”

“It’s not like other calls, obviously. These are your people. Take care of it.”

Eren was angry. He wanted to yell at Jean, tell him to go fuck himself, tell him that there was nothing wrong with being gay. 

But he wasn’t so sure that it was the truth. 

His anger deescalated quickly, replaced by the deep, scalding shame that he’d become intimate with over the past few days. As his fury deteriorated, the rage of the couple arguing on the porch spiked. One of the men stepped forward and shoved the other, who lost his balance and nearly stumbled down the steps.

“Fuck,” Eren hissed under his breath, slinging his car door open and hustling down the sidewalk. He keyed the speaker attached to his lapel and said, “Headquarters, 103, ten-ninety-seven at that eighty-six.” 

He barely even heard the reply of “ten-four” feed through his earpiece. He was already jogging through the front yard. “Police!” he said. “Back up, calm down. What’s going on here?”

The two of them started talking at the same time.

“He comes home two hours after-”

“-freaking out over fucking-”

“-damn train wreck, I mean really-”

“-jumps down my fucking throat and I-”

“Okay, enough, both of you stop,” said Eren, holding a palm out to both of them. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of them, but threw a quick glance over his shoulder, expecting to see Jean strolling over. 

Domestic situations were the most volatile call type. As a rule, two officers were needed to handle them so that the involved parties could be properly separated and questioned. 

Jean was still sitting in the car.

“Alright, let’s figure this out,” said Eren, forcing himself to sound calm. “Keep your hands in front of you, just like that. Do either of you have any weapons on you? Guns, knives, things like that?”

Both indicated that they did not.

“I’m just going to pat you down real quick to make sure, alright? Just so we all stay safe here.”

Neither of them dissented, so Eren started with the larger of the two. He was blonde and bulky and reminded Eren of Reiner. Eren gave him a speedy pat-down, keeping his eyes on the other man as he did so. Satisfied, he moved to the smaller one, sweeping his gaze over the side of his face that was red and swollen. 

“What’s your name?” said Eren, taking a step back so he could more easily view both of them. 

“Kieran.”

“What about you?”

“Hunter,” said the bigger man.

“Okay, good. I’m Officer Jaeger with the city police. Kieran, can you tell me what’s happening here?”

It would’ve been best to ask the two separately, but since Jean was busy sitting on his ass Eren would have to manage.

“We were, umm…” Kieran’s eyes darted back and forth between Eren and Hunter like a cornered animal. “Nothing. We were just arguing and it got too loud. I’m sorry.”

Eren’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t argue. “Hunter, what about you?”

“Just what he said,” said Hunger with a shrug. “We were talking and he got all upset over nothing. He shoved me too, you saw him. Almost fell down the porch steps.”

“Yeah, I did see that,” said Eren slowly. “So that was out of nowhere then? Unprovoked?”

“Yeah, of course it was. I haven’t done anything to him.”

“Alright, okay,” said Eren, nodding. He tilted his head toward Kieran. He knew it was a bad idea to ask in that situation, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “What happened to your face?”

Kieran paled, the flash of red on the left side of his face starkly conspicuous. “N-nothing. I just—I tripped over the rug in the kitchen, and I-”

“He’s clumsy as shit,” said Hunter helpfully. “He does stuff like that all the time.”

Kieran lowered his head and looked away. Before he did so, Eren saw an unmistakable quiver of his lower lip.

“Alright,” he said. “Hunter, turn around and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for domestic assault.” 

“What?” said Hunter, jaw going slack as Eren seized him by the upper arm and forcibly spun him around. “I didn’t fucking do anything, you heard him. He’s the one who pushed me!”

Eren ignored the protest, wrenching the man’s arms around and snapping his wrists together with cuffs. 

“You have the right to remain silent,” said Eren mechanically, steering the man around. “Anything you say can be used against you-”

“Whoa, hey, hold up.” Jean had finally decided to make an appearance, taking the steps in one long stride. He stayed as far away from them as the small porch would allow, evaluating the situation. “Jaeger, what are you doing?”

“Ten-fifteen, what’s it look like?” said Eren, the words curt.

“I was sitting right there,” said Jean, pointing over his shoulder. “I didn’t see this guy hit anybody. Did you hit anybody?”

“No way, man,” said Hunter. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“You,” said Jean. Kiernan flinched away from the harshness of his tone. “Did he hit you?”

“I- he- I don’t-” Kiernan stuttered out an incoherent reply, Hunter’s sharp eyes never leaving him. At length he concluded, “He, uh… no. He didn’t.”

“Okay then,” said Jean. “Cut him loose, Jaeger.”

Eren was appalled. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Language,” snarked Jean. It was probably the most hypocritical thing Eren had ever heard. “We saw nothing, we don’t have anyone wanting to press charges. The situation has been controlled. We’re done.”

“We’re not done,” said Eren. “Look at him,” he said, gesturing at Kiernan, who was trying to evaporate. “We’re not leaving him here like this.”

“That’s the law, Jaeger,” said Jean flatly. “You have two options. Either you leave them here to work their shit out themselves, or you arrest him too.” He stabbed a finger in Kiernan’s direction. “I saw him shove this one. They’re both at fault.”

“Jean, you’re being ridiculous!”

“Corporal Kirschtein,” Jean corrected. “I outrank you. Those are your two options, so choose.”

Eren clenched his hands into fists so tightly that his fingernails were probably splitting his skin. He felt himself shaking and just couldn’t stop. 

Hunter was visibly smug. Kiernan, still cowering in the corner of the porch, said quietly, “It’s okay, I’m fine. We’re fine. You can go. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“See? You heard him,” said Jean. He slipped a tiny key from the breast pocket of his uniform and approached Hunter, who eagerly turned to allow access to his cuffs. 

“Thank you, officer,” said Hunter, rubbing at his wrists when they were released. “I mean, corporal.”

“Let me see your IDs real quick,” said Jean, sliding a notebook out of his back pocket. “We’re just going to need to type up a cursory incident report, no big deal.”

Hunter started digging for his wallet. Kiernan edged his way to the front door, hunched in an effort to shrink himself. Before he slipped inside the house to retrieve his identification he met Eren’s eyes for a brief moment, and the haunted panic that Eren saw there made him nauseous.

He turned and stormed off of the porch, leaving Jean to complete his notes on his own. Eren wanted no part of it. Sure, he was much less experienced, but he knew how to do the right thing, and this wasn’t it.

Ten minutes later the two men had disappeared inside the house and Jean had returned to the cruiser. He called in their departure and headed back toward the PD to type up the report. “Why are you so antsy?”

“That wasn’t right,” said Eren simply. “He should’ve gone to jail. That’s what would’ve happened at any other call. When we had that fight at the housing projects last week-”

“That was different.”

“It was almost the exact same thing!”

“No,” said Jean, “not even close. The call last week was a married couple, a man and a woman. It was a normal relationship.”

Eren stared down at his boots, stomach churning. Every day that he spent with Jean made him feel like less of a person. Right about then he felt like he had all of the relevance of an orphaned sock.

When they got back to the PD, Eren found that someone had ripped his name off of his mail slot and replaced it with a piece of duct tape, printed with three messy block letters: FAG.

The next night Reiner found a male prostitute walking Perry Street and sent Eren a stream of photographs with captions such as “He’s cheap, are you interested?”

Annie had somehow procured a Playgirl magazine featuring pages of nude, muscled men that she slipped into Eren’s SWAT bag.

It kept piling up, one suggestive comment after another, until Eren felt he would break under the pressure. And every single day he went into work, he knew that he would be spending a solid twelve hours with Jean Kirschtein. The others bothered him, but he knew that Jean was the catalyst. He was always there, equipped with snide remarks and sneers and snark. 

Eren had never wanted to quit anything so much in his entire life, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The only thing he’d ever wanted for himself was to be a police officer. He had idolized law enforcement ever since he could remember, and now that he had a chance to participate he just couldn’t throw it away. He needed to be a cop. It didn’t matter how awful he felt. If he could make a difference for someone else, that was truly important.

About a week later Eren got the opportunity to arrest Hunter from the domestic incident. It would have felt like a victory, if not for one small detail. The reason Hunter was arrested was because he had beaten Kieran so badly that they had to call in EMS to deliver him to the hospital via ambulance. He had a cracked skull; it was very possible that he could have died if left without medical attention any longer. 

Jean shrugged it off, saying that it had been impossible to predict. No one could ever tell how these people were going to act. 

Eren turned in his badge the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any more of these side chapters written at the moment, so if there's anything you'd like to see let me know and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This directly follows Chapter 39 of [ Protect and Serve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3765271/chapters/8363791). If you haven't gotten that far then don't read this yet. It's probably littered with spoilers.
> 
> I wrapped up two different Side Notes suggestions into this chapter. If anyone has any other requests feel free! The main story is almost over so there may not be much time left.

Armin cared about Annie, but he still had little desire to mingle with her friends. He was the sort of person who could usually get along with anyone. Armin was nothing if not civil. The problem was that Annie’s only friends seemed to double as her coworkers, which meant that every time she wanted Armin to hang out with someone, they were always police officers. That was the problem.

It had nothing to do with the aspect of law enforcement. Armin was the opposite of a lawbreaker. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol until his twenty-first birthday, and only then because Eren practically forced it down his throat. He’d never even seen marijuana, much less smoked it, and anything beyond that severity of defying laws wasn’t even a consideration for him. 

Armin didn’t like the police because of Eren, plain and simple. He didn’t need his own reasons. If his best friend hated someone, it was therefore Armin’s duty to hate that person, too. 

At least it had been until he’d met Annie.

He’d tried to dislike her. He’d really, really tried. It should have been easy, even aside from the prior knowledge he’d gleaned from Eren. She wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. She wasn’t friendly or bubbly or cheerful, which were the traits that had tended to attract Armin during the first twenty-two years of his life. In fact, the first time he’d seen her while standing on the doorstep of her house, he’d been more than a little intimidated. Her face was masked in a glare, irritation shining in her eyes like glowing embers. Her demeanor had changed after that into something a little more welcoming, but it had still been edged with a snarky attitude that Armin was unaccustomed to.

One of Annie’s primary personality traits seemed to be boredom, and it was that expression that typically claimed her face. She wasn’t someone that Armin would have been interested in at all, and it never would have happened if Annie hadn’t manipulated him into going out with her. The first time had been after he’d fixed her security system. He’d let it slip that it was his last call of the day before he went home to sleep, and she’d insisted on buying him lunch at the diner down the street. He’d tried to decline, but hadn’t been rude enough to deny her.

Ten minutes into breakfast he’d started to see the cracks in her apparent apathy. It had filtered through in subtle twitches of her face; a curl of her lip, a brightening of her eyes, an amused tic of her eyebrow. 

Armin had been watching her so closely that he knocked his juice over, and Annie laughed at his frenzied attempt to wipe it up before the waitress swooped over. 

Her laugh, unlike the hard edge of her demeanor, was like a wind chime in a summer breeze. It was pure, soothing, beautiful. It opened a window to the person that she kept hidden beneath the shell, the soul encased in the defensive armor of her sharp personality.

After that, Armin was a goner.

He’d felt awful in regards to Eren. He knew how badly his best friend would react, and he’d been correct. Still, he couldn’t make himself give Annie up, not even for Eren. Armin had never smoked a cigarette, but he imagined this was what a nicotine addiction felt like. It was best for him to stop and go away and never look back, but it was also borderline impossible. 

If the night before had been any indication, though, maybe everything with Eren was going to work out.

Armin woke with a face full of hair and a dead arm. He turned his face away, blonde strands clinging to his lips like spiderwebs. He tried to extract his arm from beneath Annie’s head without rousing her, but she blinked up at him as soon as he shifted away.

“Stop,” she said, her voice garbled by sleep. She curled closer and laid against his chest, wrapping around him like a twisted rubber band. “Don’t go, you’re warm.”

Armin smiled and tried to curve his arm around her shoulders. It flopped clumsily and sent the foggy pain of a hundred needles spiking up to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the sensation, waiting for it to subside.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, reaching over with his functional hand to stroke her hair. “Just getting more comfortable.”

Annie hummed beneath his touch, tilting her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were wide, blue, breathtaking. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too.”

“Told you it wouldn’t be that bad,” she said, again nestling into his bare chest. “They’re good guys.”

Armin thought about the mumbled apology that Reiner had offered to Eren the night before. Armin had been talking to Annie at the time, but he’d heard enough of their conversation to understand that Reiner was trying to make amends. After that, Eren had seemed almost comfortable among them. The stiff unease that his best friend had carried into the house like a cross had melted away. 

Part of that was probably due to Levi, too, but that was expected. Armin felt that Levi had done more for Eren in the past few weeks that Armin had managed to accomplish in months. 

“Yeah,” said Armin, smiling into Annie’s hair. “Yeah, they are.”

“They liked you,” said Annie, squeezing him more tightly. 

“I don’t know about that…”

“I do,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “I know them, and I know they liked you.”

“Oh… okay then.”

She wrinkled her nose and rolled away from him, instead burrowing into her pillow. “Your morning breath smells like ass.”

Armin snorted. “Yours isn’t any better.”

“Shut up. I smell like a dandelion.”

“If that’s slang for garbage, then yes, that’s what your breath smells like.”

Annie kicked him, but Armin knew she was just playing. He’d witnessed the night before that if she’d really wanted to hurt him, she was more than capable.

After a long half hour of lazing around in the comfort of having nowhere to be, the two of them crawled out of bed. Armin redressed in the clothes he’d folded on the dresser. Annie pawed around in a drawer until she found spandex shorts and a matching tank top. Armin watched her curiously until she explained, “I’m going running. I haven’t been in about a week and I don’t want to get flabby.”

“That is absolutely the last word that anyone would use to describe you, Annie.”

“Yeah, because I go running.”

Armin shook his head and followed her to the kitchen. He was personally unconcerned whether Annie was flabby or not. It wouldn’t detract from the sapphiric shine of her eyes, or her bitterly quick wit. 

If Eren or Mikasa heard him thinking such mushy things he would be ridiculed.

Annie brewed a pot of coffee and Armin accepted a cup after it had been properly watered down with sugar and cream. Annie took hers with only the slightest pinch of sugar. “You can stay,” said Annie, staring into her cup. “If you want. I’m not doing anything today. You won’t bother me. You can even go running with me.”

“Only if you’re planning to carry me the whole way,” said Armin with a grin. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly an athlete.”

“I have noticed, actually,” said Annie. “It’s fixable.”

“That’s okay, I’m fine.”

Annie shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “You want toast or anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay.”

For a while they lingered in the quiet kitchen and Armin was nearly overwhelmed with the domesticity of the situation. A month ago the two of them didn’t even know one another. Now he was spending night at her house and there was nothing awkward about it. Everything was familiar, comfortable, and it was something that Armin could easily get used to.

Except for one unfavorable detail.

“Thank god there’s coffee.” Jean drifted into the room like a starving man. He converged on the coffee pot like he was going in for the kill. Marco trailed into the kitchen a few steps behind him, greeting Armin and Annie with a smile.

“Help yourself,” said Annie as Jean threw open cabinet doors seeking a mug. “Just pretend like you live here. Don’t worry about overstepping your boundaries or anything.”

She was ignored by Jean, but Armin suppressed a grin. Her sarcasm was much like Levi’s, and it wasn’t the only similarity that the two of them shared. They were much alike, and the extreme control of their facial expressions was one obvious indicator. Armin supposed that if Eren had been straight, Annie may have been his type instead. Things may have gone differently. Armin wondered if Annie would have returned those feelings if Eren had expressed them. He wondered if she would have preferred Eren over him. After all, the only advantage that Armin could claim over Eren was intelligence. Eren was more personable, when he cared to be. He was tall and attractive, and Armin was certain that Eren would be able to keep up with Annie during her early morning exercise.

Maybe that’s how it should have been. Armin certainly wasn’t a match for her. He was still baffled as to why she wasted her time with him in the first place.

A hand rested lightly on the top of his head and Annie pressed a quick kiss against his temple. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” she said, taking a step back and returning to her coffee. “You’ll blow a circuit.”

Jean was gawking at the pair of them. Armin supposed that it was a rare sight for him to witness Annie being so affectionate.

Jean shook himself and poured two cups of coffee into the mugs he’d excavated from the back of a cabinet. He took his black and dumped a swirl of creamer and sugar into Marco’s before passing it to him. 

“So,” said Annie, propping a hip against the table, “Did you boys have a good night?”

Jean’s mouth pulled into a smirk. He took a sip of coffee, eyeing Annie over the rim of the mug. “Sure,” he said. “It was good. Slept like a rock.”

Marco developed an intense interest in his diluted coffee.

“That’s interesting,” said Annie. “As far as I know, rocks sleep quietly. They don’t moan like they’re making bad porn.”

A vivid flush surged into Marco’s cheeks, a crimson background to his spray of freckles. Jean rolled his eyes and said, “If we were going to make a porn it would be a damn good one. Don’t insult us.”

“It sounded like a couple virgins trying to figure out where it goes,” said Annie. “I thought I told you not to fuck on my bed.”

Marco’s face was in danger of catching fire at any given moment.

“Fuck off, Annie,” said Jean. He leaned against the wall casually, as if he was unaffected by the conversation. Despite his nonchalance, Armin could see a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I was drunk, remember? I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Annie. Her gaze flicked to Marco. “What about you, Bodt? I thought you, of all people, would respect my house.”

“I do!” he said, too loudly. He corrected the volume, continuing, “It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like then?”

“It was…” He trailed off, realizing there was no argument to pull him out of the situation. He sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry, Annie.”

“You should be, that’s disgusting. I’ll have to drag the bed into the backyard and burn it.”

“You’re so dramatic,” said Jean, rolling his eyes.

“Was it at least good?” asked Annie, still focused on Marco. “Were you sexually satisfied?”

Marco slapped his free hand over his face. He made a muffled noise that sounded like a groan.

“What was that, Bodt?”

“Yes.”

The curve of a wicked grin pulled at Annie’s lips. Armin liked to see her smile, even if it was for a less-than-wholesome reason.

“So you would say you enjoyed yourself,” she pressed, “in my guest room.”

“Yes.”

“Did you use protection?”

“Yes.”

“Good, very smart. Did you top?”

“Yes.”

Jean had just taken another sip of coffee. He promptly choked on it, sputtering as Annie whipped her head around to grin at him. 

“I knew it!” she said, her voice too loud in the small kitchen. 

“Marco!” said Jean, his voice strangled. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry!” said Marco, trying to melt into the wall. “There were too many questions, it slipped!”

Armin pressed his lips together tightly and managed to keep himself from laughing with an extreme effort of will.

“I knew it,” said Annie, thrilled. “I fucking knew it. Jean Kirschtein is a little bitch after all.”

“It was the first time!” said Jean, punctuating the statement with his hands. He was getting overexcited; a few drops of coffee slapped against the tile floor. “I’ve always topped before. Stop acting like you know something about it. You don’t know shit.”

“I know everyone in this room is more man than you are,” said Annie. “Hell, if you and I fucked I’d be the one topping.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“What do you think, Armin?” said Annie. 

Armin looked between them, amusement blooming in his chest. “I think you’re right,” he said. “You’d definitely top. You’re much more dominant.”

Jean was outraged. Marco, despite, his embarrassment, was grinning a little at Jean’s expense.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous,” said Jean, glaring at all of them. “All of you. I don’t have to take this.”

“Nope,” said Annie, “but you sure took Marco’s dick last night.”

They snapped back and forth at each other like junkyard dogs, Marco and Armin watching with quiet, somewhat flustered, amusement. Eventually Annie cut the argument off by dumping the dredges of her cold coffee into the sink. She’d drank less than half a cup. Armin wondered if she only brewed coffee out of habit rather than necessity. “I’m going for a run,” she said. “You coming, Kirschtein? Or are you afraid you can’t keep up?”

“Fuck you, I could run laps around you.”

“Prove it then, bitch.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” said Marco brightly, his attitude a welcome change from the bickering. “It’ll be ready when you get back.”

Jean’s antagonistic exterior cracked slightly, fracturing beneath the pressure of Marco’s smile. 

“Your boyfriend’s a keeper, Jean. I don’t know why he’s interested in you,” said Annie. She started out of the room, but hesitated in the doorway. Her eyes were on Armin. “You sticking around for a while?”

“Maybe just for breakfast,” said Armin.

Annie nodded once. “Good.”

Jean followed her, and their subdued arguing continued until they were out the front door.

Marco had watched them go with a slightly distant expression. When he and Armin were alone, he moved to the fridge and started shifting around the contents, searching for something edible.

Armin wandered over and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“You really like him, don’t you?” he said, just as Marco emerged with a carton of eggs.

“Huh?” he said, looking from the eggs to Armin. “Oh, um… yeah, I do. He acts kind of abrasive, but he’s not like that. Not really.” He nudged the refrigerator door shut and put the eggs on the counter, pulling open the nearest cabinet door and peering inside. He chose a small bowl then looked over his shoulder. “You get that, though. Annie seems like she’s kind of the same. She acts mean, but she’s a good person under that. You really like her, too.”

Armin smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed, echoing Marco’s words. “I do.”

“I guess we’re both pretty lucky.”

Armin reflected on that while Marco searched for a frying pan. That morning he’d woken up to a strong, beautiful woman, one who cared for him. He was making new friends like Marco, who was great company, and his best friend was finally learning have a life again. 

Armin had never been an optimist, but for once he could look at his future without the knot of anxiety that seemed to perpetually twist his stomach.

For the first time in a while he had nothing to complain about, and he hoped to wake up to that feeling every day.


End file.
